


Apple of My Eye

by GerardWaysThirdNipple



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Teen!Dean, pastry chef!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3648582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GerardWaysThirdNipple/pseuds/GerardWaysThirdNipple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is 14 and lives next door to Mr. Novak, who makes really good pie. But then Dean moves away, from his friends and the love of his life. Fast forward six years, and Dean travels almost 600 miles to visit his ex neighbor. Maybe they have hot sex, maybe they don't (hint: they have hot sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apple of My Eye

"Mom, I'll be next door, okay?" Dean shouted into the house from the front door, pulling a grey sweatshirt over his head, as Mary Winchester yelled at him to put on something warm. 

He didn't really need the sweatshirt; he was going to walk the few yards to his neighbors house, knock on the door and be ushered into Mr. Novak's house, where the 23 year old would bake him apple or blueberry or pecan pie, unintentionally causing Dean to fall in love with the just graduated college student even more. 

The teen sprinted over to the next house, taking deep breaths to hide his panting. He knocked on the deep blue door, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. It really was chilly. 

"Dean!" The man opened the door, his face lighting up, which also had flour on it. Dean could already smell the pie in the oven.

"Hey, Mr. Novak. May I come in?" 

"Of course. And you can call me Castiel. Mr. Novak makes me feel old," he laughed, and Dean drowned in his bluer than all the seas in the world eyes. 

Dean was ushered into the house, where he navigated the path he'd walked hundreds of times before, to the kitchen. 

"Mm, smells good, Mr. Novak, er, I mean, Castiel." 

"Thank you, Dean. Can you guess what flavor it is?" Castiel sat down at the kitchen table, motioning for Dean to sit across from him. 

This question was a norm for them. Whenever Dean came over and Castiel had pie for him, Dean would try to figure out the flavor with just his nose.

So Dean sat down, closing his eyes and taking a long sniff. 

"Apple." Castiel nodded, and Dean smiled, proud of himself. 

"It'll be done in a few minutes. How have you been?"

Castiel was very formal for being so young. But with his crazy, raven black hair and bright, almost crazy at times, eyes, his actions and looks contrasted well. 

They made small talk, Castiel jokingly scolding Dean about only having a C in math.

"Dude, I suck at math!"

"No you don't, you just don't pay attention," Castiel retorted.

The oven timer stopped Dean from saying something along the lines of "bite me", but he sat up straighter and watched Castiel's every move. The teen blushed when he realized he'd been staring at his neighbors behind when the older of the two started walking back towards the table with two plates.

"You make the best pie ever, Mr. Novak," Dean said around a mouthful of sweet, cinnamony bite of pie.

"I'm glad you think so, Dean." They ate in peaceful silence, until another knock sounded, and Castiel answered the door again.

"Mrs. Winchester! Good to see you." Dean heard his mothers voice, and he put his and Castiel's plates in the sink.

"Hey Mom."

"Dean, I was just telling Mr. Novak about our plans for the summer."

"Plans?"

"Oh silly me, I thought I asked your father to tell you when I was at work. We're moving to Colorado, sweetheart."

"What?" Dean was shocked. He couldn't move! He had friends, a life. Castiel was here.

"Sorry to have Dean eat and run, but we've got some errands to do. Say thank you and goodbye to Mr. Novak, Dean." Mary left with a wave to her own home, waiting for Dean in the car.

"Can I come over tomorrow after school?"

"Of course. I could help you with your math, if you wanted."

"Sure, Cas. Thanks for the pie and I'll see you later." Dean walked out the door, glancing back to see the door close.

Castiel leaned against the door, running the nickname through his head. 

-*-

"Mom, we can't move! Me and Sammy have school, friends, we like it here!" Sam and Dean were standing next to each other, Dean whining to his parents. Sam was only eight, but he didn't want to leave either. 

"Honey, explain to Dean why we have to go." Mary said, flipping through a Better Homed and Gardens magazine.

"Your mom and I have better paying job opportunities in Colorado, boys. Dean the second you move out of the house we're buying, you can come back."

"It'll be too late! My friends would be in college and have girlfriends or boyfriends or have already gotten married!"

"Dean, there's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. We leave a week after school gets out."

"That's not even a month away," he grumbled, storming off to his room.

Already, his mom had taken out his suitcase and put boxes in his room, taunting him.

He opened his closet and threw out his clothes angrily, keeping out a few outfits and shoving the rest into the case. 

Dean stood fuming in his almost clothes less closet, contemplating if he should take his anger out on a wall. He decided to actually start packing the stuff he didn't need, like the posters on the wall and trinkets on the shelves. 

This time, he was gentle. These posters and small objects meant a lot to him. Like a shell, from the time they all went to the beach, and Sam found a starfish in the tide pool and screamed when it started moving. 

Dean sorted through everything in his room, making three piles. One for things he would need by next month, one for things he was packing, and one for things he didn't need anymore. 

Everything he did need he shoved back into his closet. 

When Sam came running upstairs to tell Dean dinner was ready and that he needed to wash his hands, the teen was done packing, with the boxes off to one side of the room.

"It looks...sad." Sam said as he stood in the doorway.

"What'dya mean?"

"Like when the teachers take down all the fun and colorful posters at the end of the year, and you just see the white walls. It makes the room look sad." He explained. 

Dean nodded, completely understanding. He had been elementary school once, too. 

"Yeah, but it'll be cool when we get to Colorado, okay?"

Sam just shrugged, turned around, and walked back downstairs to the kitchen.

Dean followed, making a stop at the bathroom to wash his hands, splashing some water on his face, too. It was still sort of red from his tantrum, and the cool water felt nice on his heated skin. 

"What's for dinner?" He asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans," John answered, bringing the food to the table, where Sam already sat. 

"Do you need help, Mom?" 

"No, sweetie, I'm fine. Just sit down."

So he did, across from Sam, who was pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Mom, Sammy's gonna need a haircut soon," Dean said, looking at his mom who was now sitting to the left of him.

"Do not!" The younger brother shouted, flailing his legs under the table to try to kick Dean.

"Boys, enough. Dig in. Sam, hand me the potatoes, please," John asked, passing the bowl to Dean. 

Sam excitedly told his parents and Dean about a field trip his class would be taking to a museum, and his eyes shone when he said there was an exhibit dedicated to Gandhi.

"Nerd," scoffed Dean, pushing his green beans around on his plate.

"Dean, honey, what's wrong? You've barely eaten anything? Are you sick? Do you have a fever?" His mother worried.

"He's lovesick, Mary. I can see it in his eyes." Dean's eyes snapped up to glare at his dad, trying to burn a hole in his forehead. 

"I was right! Who's the lucky girl?" 

"There isn't a girl!" 

"I know who it is," Sam said, giving Dean an evil smirk.

"Don't. You. Dare." 

"It's....."

"Sam!"

Sam started humming, making a prolonged "m" sound.

"Sammy, don't. Please," Dean pleaded, ready to get on his hands and knees and grovel, if he needed to. 

"Sam, don't torture your brother," Mary chimed in.

"LISA!" 

Sam jumped out of his chair and ran out of the kitchen, his laughter still heard even from his room. 

"You like Lisa?"

Dean groaned. "No! There isn't any girl." 

"Not a girl?" Mary repeated, and she gasped a little when she understood.

"So is there a boy?" 

"A boy?" John said, finally tuning in on the conversation. "You're gay?"

This was what he'd been dreading. Coming out to his parents. No, not parents, just his dad. 

"Yes, there's a boy, no I'm not gay. I'm bisexual," Dean sighed. He'd never wanted to admit it so early.

"Aw, sweetheart. What's his name?" His mother said at the same his dad exclaimed, "I won't have a gay son!"

"John Winchester, there's a difference between gay and bisexual. He's your son, and you love him, and I know that would never change just because of who he likes." Mary scolded her husband. She stood up and started taking everyone's plates and picking up, humming "Hey Jude" under her breath. 

John muttered under his breath, but didn't say anything else homophobic to Dean, which was like the weight of the world had been lifted off of his shoulders. He was out, and he was being accepted.

Dean left the room, taking the stairs two at a time, knocking on Sam's door before he opened the door. His brother was on his bed reading a book.

"Hey, man."

"Why did you do that?"

"Dean, you know I wouldn't tell Mom without you saying I could."

"Whatever. Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam shot back, smiling at their nicknames for each other. 

"I'm gonna take a shower. Don't go in my room," Dean warned, ruffling Sam's hair before leaving. 

"Wait Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Did you tell Mom and Dad? About Mr. Novak?"

"No. Just that there is a boy. I don't think they'd approve of me liking someone nine years older than me."

Sam nodded, his eyes brows furrowed in concentration as he continued reading his book. 

Dean stripped, getting into the shower and trying his hardest to not think about the man next door. But sometimes you don't always get what you want, so Dean turned the hot water off and took a very cold shower that night.

-*-

He'd done it. He'd graduated middle school, and would a freshman in high school in two months. 

But not with his friends. Dean was thankful his parents let him spend the night with his group of friends. They went all out: pizza, video games, talking about girls. That part was awkward for Dean, but nobody realized he didn't gush about some hot girl who made googly eyes at him.

When Dean came home the next day, he looked at the calendar he kept up, and realized he had six days left. He wanted to say goodbye to Mr. Novak, but he had something planned. It would have to wait. 

He'd have to go without pie for a few days, which was almost as bad as the thought of moving. 

Dean was all packed, and he had even less clothes put out, basically three outfits of shorts and short sleeved shirts. 

The teen plopped on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He still had those lame glow in the dark stars on it, but he didn't want to put too much effort into this move. 

For the next few days, Dean said his goodbyes to other kids in the neighborhoods, repeating the same thing to each of them. Now that he'd thought everything through, he wouldn't really miss these people, besides his neighbor.

And the day came. So did the U-Haul, with movers in jumpsuits and dollies. Mary said Dean could say goodbye as soon as his room was done with (so he ran up and down stairs, carrying the heavier boxes first).

It went by faster than Dean had wanted, really, even though he stayed to help put the rest of the boxes and furniture on the truck. 

His mother would drive in the family car with Dean, while John would drive the U-Haul with Sam. 

"Alright, Dean. You have ten minutes, and then we're outta here," Mary nudged him towards the next house over, winking at him. He could never keep a secret from his mother, and had spilled his heart out about Castiel. 

"Hurry up, too! We're going to get burgers and milkshakes after we leave!" His father yelled after the running young man. 

Dean knocked at the door, panting and pulling at his clothes to straighten them. The door opened, revealing a disheveled haired Castiel.

"Dean? I thought you were moving...today?" 

"Yeah, I am in like ten minutes. May I come in?" Castiel nodded, moving out of the doorway for Dean.

"I wanted to say goodbye. And tell you a few things."

Castiel looked at him, at his golden freckles and beautiful, rare, coveted green eyes, framed by long lashes, that went to well with his short light brown hair. He'd be a very handsome man in a few years. 

"Okay, so what are these things?" Castiel walked to his living room, motioning for Dean to sit on the love seat beside him. 

"Alright, well, the thing is," he winced as his voice cracked a little (damn puberty!) and took a deep breath, calming himself, "I'm in love with you, Mr. Nov— er, Cas. And I know I'm young and there's a big age difference, but I couldn't help it. You're so nice, and funny, and intelligent and handsome and you are a great cook and you don't treat me like I'm a kid, even when I act like one. So I was wondering, if before I leave your life, maybe for good, I was maybe thinking you could...kiss me?" Dean was scared, scared that Cas would send him away without a second thought, that he'd be disgusted with Dean for liking guys. 

But the older man just sat there, wide eyed, showing more blue in his irises than Dean ever thought possible. 

"Dean, I never thought, it never occurred to me that you, that I. I'm flattered, Dean. And you're right, I'm too old for you. I'll see you out." Castiel stood and Dean followed. He felt his heart breaking into two, crumbling into smaller pieces with every step towards the exit. 

"I'm sorry, Cas. Maybe I shouldn't have told you that. Goodbye," Dean reached for the door handle, but Cas' own hand encircled his wrist, stopping him. 

"It's okay, Dean. I'll give you what you want, because truth is, I wish you were older, or I younger, so this wouldn't be so pedo-ish."

"You'll kiss me?" Dean perked up, facing Cas and looking at him expectantly. 

"Yes, now close your eyes." Dean followed his directions, lifting his face a little. He could feel Castiel's warm breath as he got closer, and there was suddenly heat on his forehead. He realized Cas had kissed his forehead. 

"Goodbye, Dean. Maybe we'll meet again in the future," he opened the door, and didn't close it until after the truck was gone, and he forgot the exact shade of gold that the small flecks were that spattered around Dean's pupils. 

-*-  
Castiel went on to study culinary arts and become a pastry chef, all for Dean. Whenever he was in the kitchen, making puff pastries or rolling out dough, the image of a teenage boy, just starting to grow into himself, standing on his doorstep with a light in his eyes that was reserved for Cas. 

Every year, on the same day, he made an apple pie, Dean's favorite, and ate it slowly, savoring all the moments they shared, all the laughs they had. 

Six years had flown by for Dean, who got his shit together and started focusing on math and science. 

He missed his dark haired neighbor, and couldn't wait to get back to him. 

Dean had just finished his freshman year of college when he looked at the date. Tomorrow was the six year anniversary of the move. He packed a small bag of clothes and other essentials. If there traffic wasn't bad, Dean could get there in about 9 hours. 

Shouting a quick goodbye to his roommate, he raced from his apartment to the parking lot. Dean went to the part of the lot where he always parked, searching for the only car he'd probably ever own.

"Baby!" He found the sleek, black, 1967 Chevy Impala, letting his hand slide along the trunk before he opened it, and threw his bag inside. 

Slamming it shut, he got into the drivers seat, starting it up and 'oohing' at the sound of the engine. 

"Oh, listen to you, just like the day you were first driven. Ready for a few hundred miles more?"

He was glad he hadn't slept in as long as he usually did (it was only 11, quite early for Dean), because there wasn't a rush at his favorite diner in town. 

Ordering the usual, asking for it to go, he thought about what he was going to do. By the time his burger and fries were ready and he handed the waitress a ten, winking at her and giving her another ten as a tip, Dean knew what he wanted to do.

He thought a lot during his trip. How college and high school and middle school were so different. Dean had just been a prepubescent kid the last he saw Castiel. Only his family knew about him. In high school, his new friends weren't accepting about anything really, except some that weren't in his "clique". Like Jo Harvelle and her friend, Ash. Or Charlie Bradbury, a geek with red hair that wasn't straight and wasn't in the closet or ashamed about it. 

Those were the people that Dean missed the most from his time in high school. He still talked to them, but they all went to different colleges. Charlie had gone to New Zealand as soon as school let out to see where they filmed The Hobbit, one of her favorite books as a kid. 

Sam was in high school now, the nerd. He loved school, catching onto whatever the teachers taught easily; he had high hopes of going to Stanford. 

 

And college? College was nothing like high school. Everyone was so chill about sexuality, and nobody really cared. Just the morning before, Dean saw someone wearing a snuggie on an electric scooter, eating a burrito, heading to class. 

He turned onto the highway, glad to see there were only a few other cars. 

 

Dean turned up the radio, jamming out to a Metallica song, singing at the top of his lungs. 

He stopped at the next town he passed through, taking a bathroom break and filling up the gas tank. He bought a Monster, chips, and licorice, smiling at a memory of him and Sam fighting over movie snacks. 

"Only a few more hours, baby," he said to his car, getting back on the highway and not stopping for three more hours. His legs had pins and needles and he seriously needed a cigarette.

Dean didn't smoke often, but he always had a pack in the glove box with a lighter. He stopped at another gas station and bought a coffee. 

"Where ya heading?" The cashier was a young kid, only about 17, maybe 18. 

"How do you know I'm heading anywhere?" 

The kid shrugged, like that was a proper answer. "You've never been in here before, and usually people don't drink coffee at four in the afternoon."

"Well I do. And I'm going to Kansas. I'm going to see someone I haven't seen in a long time."

"Ah. You only have a little while left. Good luck and have a nice night," he replied, giving Dean his change.

"Thanks."

Dean drove the rest of the way without stopping, until he got into town. He went to the little restaurant that was his favorite when he lived there, ordering the same thing he did so many years ago. 

"Excuse me?" Dean turned around, mouth full of burger. A pretty brunette was standing behind him and she was holding a toddler with dark blond hair and hazel eyes. 

"Can I help you?"

"I was just wondering. Did you happen to have gone to Lawrence Middle School?"

Dean nodded. "You look really familiar, I'm sorry," the girl said.

"My name is Dean, if that helps jog your memory."

"Dean Winchester? I'm Lisa, remember?" 

"Of course I remember you! How could I not?"

Lisa laughed, switching the child to her other hip. "It's been a while. How have you been?" 

"Six years tomorrow. I've been good, just finished my first year of college. What about you?"

"I've been great. I got married and had little Ben here." She smiled at the little boy, who grinned and showed six milky white teeth. 

"Well he's adorable," Dean remarked.

"You got anyone special back home?"

"Not back home. They're here, actually."

"Really?"

Dean nodded again, inviting Lisa to sit and talk, but she politely declined.

"I have to drop off Ben at his grandma's, then head to work. But thank you. Maybe I'll see you around more." With that, she left Dean to eat his dinner in silence. 

It was too late to just drop in on Castiel, so Dean checked into a motel. He climbed under the surprisingly clean sheets and fell fast asleep, dreaming of apple pie.

-*-

Tap tap tap. Someone is at the door, he told himself. Castiel got out of his bundle of blankets, running his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it. He opened the door, blinking at the sudden brightness. 

"Hello?" There was a man there, younger than him, but not by much, with short, dirty blond hair, a straight nose, barely there stubble, and full pink lips. He looked very familiar. "Can I help you?"

"Cas," the man breathed, his face breaking into a intoxicating smile. 

"Dean? Dean Winchester?"

The man nodded, his eyes going from loving and full of wonder, to dark and lustful.

"I've been waiting so long to do this," Dean murmured, just loud enough that Castiel heard it. Dean pushed Cas into his house, to the nearest wall and kicked the door shut. 

"I'm ready for my grownup kiss now, Mr. Novak." He shoved their lips together, tugging at the dark locks Cas let grow too long. 

But Castiel didn't push Dean away, he didn't protest. He kissed him back, hands on Dean's hips, pulling him closer.

Cas opened his mouth in a sigh, letting Dean's tongue explore his mouth. Then he put his hands on the younger man's chest, undoing the top button of his flannel.

"I thought you'd be one of those celibate weirdos from what I remember," Dean joked, pulling back to look at those beautiful eyes he'd tried to forgot. 

"Dean, I'm almost thirty years old, I've had sex before." 

"Good, but nothing else will ever compare to how good this will be," Dean dropped his mouth to Cas' neck, sucking and praying there'll be a lasting mark. 

Cas carded his fingers through Dean's short hair, bringing his face up to kiss him again. 

"Dean," the older man rasped, "bedroom. Now." Dean let Cas grab his hand and lead him to his room, where they resumed making out, teeth hitting against teeth in their urgent movements to get as close as possible. Cas finally unbuttoned Dean's shirt completely, pushing off his shoulders, which were tanned and muscled like his torso. Castiel ran his hands up and down his chest, pushing on him until he got the hint to walk backwards to the bed. 

Dean gripped the hem of Cas' shirt pulling it over his head and marveling at his smooth, pale skin. He dropped to his knees, looking up at Cas through long eyelashes, batting them. He could hear the older man's breath hitch at the sight and it gave Dean a thrill. 

Unbuttoning Cas' pants and undoing the zipper, Dean could see the soft hair that was Cas' happy trail. He pulled down his pants and underwear, glad that Castiel was as hard as he was. 

His ex neighbor was well endowed, and Dean's eyes widened a little. Licking his lips, he took just the head in his mouth, sucking lightly and listening to the sounds coming from Cas. The man standing carded his fingers through Dean's hair, not trying to move Dean's head at a different rhythm. 

Dean took more of Cas into his mouth, little be little until Cas hit the back of his throat and Dean had swallowed all of his cock. He started bobbing his head back and forth, humming to tease Castiel a little more. 

"Dean, stop, I don't...wanna come yet," Cas groaned out. 

Dean pulled off with a pop and stood up. Cas took his pants the rest of the way off, and kissed Dean again, undoing his pants and sliding them down. Dean kicked them off along with his boxers and held Cas' face in his hands. 

"I've been waiting so long to do this," he whispered, kissing Castiel once more before turning them around. "Where's your...stuff?"

"Drawer," Cas nudged his chin towards his nightstand, sitting on his bed. 

Dean got out the bottle of lube, but didn't find any condoms so he went to his pants and fished one from his pocket, and set the two things on the nightstand. 

He climbed on the bed, letting Cas get comfortable so he could prep him. The older man lay on his back, legs spread and bent, his hair striking against his light pillowcase. He was panting and his cheeks were flushed, and he looked absolutely beautiful. 

Dean grabbed the bottle and put some on his fingers and Cas' entrance, pausing when a shudder went through him. He pressed one finger to his hole, slowly working it in past the ring of muscle. Dean drew it back out and in slowly, allowing Cas to be stretched out a little bit at a time and get used to the feeling. 

When Cas nodded for another finger, he added a second, scissoring them and speeding up slightly, watching Cas' face for any sign that he wanted to stop. Dean put in a third finger, curling them to find Cas' prostate. 

After a few tries, Cas moaned, and Dean bent his fingers against that spot again.

"Such a tease," the dark haired man said, pushing down on Dean's fingers. 

Dean pumped his fingers in and out, brushing against that bundle of nerves every so often, until Cas actually started begging for Dean to fuck him. 

So he removed his fingers and tore open the packaging, rolling the condom over himself, putting lubricant on his cock and more on Cas' hole. 

Dean hovered over him, lining up and putting the tip of his dick against Cas, looking into his eyes. Cas looked back and smiled, relaxing visibly for Dean. He pushed into Cas, who's mouth widened and made an 'o', staying like that so Cas could adjust. 

All he wanted to do was ram into Cas mercilessly, but he didn't want to hurt him. 

Cas was hot and tight and he could feel the walls of him relax and twitch with pleasure. 

"You good, baby?" Dean asked, and Cas' hips bucked, so Dean pulled out and back in, setting a steady rhythm. Cas gripped the back of Dean's head and pulled him down for a kiss, which was sweeter than his pie. 

Dean put their foreheads together and his thrusts got faster, and he started hitting Cas' prostate almost every thrust, pulling sighs and moans that resembled his name from the man underneath him. 

He was making some pretty satisfied noises himself, but he focused on Cas, on how his hips met Dean's with every thrust, how he held tightly onto Dean's biceps. 

All too soon, Dean felt a tightening in his lower abdomen, and he wasn't sure whether he should slow down.

"Dean, Jesus CHRIST, I'm gonna," he panted, "come." 

The younger man mentally thanked the Lord, and his movements got faster. Cas removed one of his hands from Dean's arm and started jerking himself off, needing release. 

Dean angled himself to hit Cas' prostate as much as he could, holding onto Cas' hip and squeezing, sure to leave bruises. 

"Fuck, Cas, so good, you feel so good," Dean moaned, and he felt Cas tightened his walls, and he couldn't control himself. His hips thrust into the older man erratically, the friction and sounds and just Castiel lying beneath him, hot and sweaty and gorgeous as fuck when he's on the brink of coming, all put together made Dean scream and come in the most powerful orgasm he'd ever experienced. He buried himself in Cas, and he felt something warm and wet and another shout that must've been his name, and he felt himself shaking from the waves of pleasure that radiated through him, and he slumped on Cas, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. 

Cas rode out his orgasm, repeating Dean's name, hand and stomach covered in his own come. Dean was laying on him, keeping himself up using his elbows, and he was panting heavy on his shoulder. 

The older man sighed, and Dean pulled out, which made Cas wince, to which Dean kissed him, and it was softer than he'd ever kissed anyone, and it held a hell of a lot more meaning. 

Dean left the room, finding the bathroom. He came back with a clean abdomen and a damp washcloth. He sat next to Cas and wiped his stomach, then his hand. 

"Thank you," the dark haired man said. Dean put the cloth on the bedside table, happily leaning into the embrace Cas wanted. Cas lay back with Dean in his arms, and they laid there for the rest of the day, talking about everything that'd happened in the time they were apart. 

Dean fell even more in love, and Cas could have the relationship he'd wanted with that squeaky voiced teenager without the regret of being sort of creepy. 

"Do you want some pie?"


End file.
